


just flower shop things (yes, that is a working title)

by sisigsilog



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Also Wonpil is a cutie who expresses his feelings via flowers, Because Wonpil deserves better, Florist AU, Florist!Kim Wonpil, Fluff, Gen, Jealousy, Reader is actually sly but it's never called out, Reader is referred to as "pretty" but can be gender neutral, Requited Love, florist shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisigsilog/pseuds/sisigsilog
Summary: the mandatory florist!wonpil bc he is so soft and cute.alternatively:every morning, wonpil looks forward to seeing his favorite customer, but it has to take a little bit of jealousy to get him to admit he likes them.
Relationships: Kim Wonpil/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	just flower shop things (yes, that is a working title)

Your visits are the highlight of Wonpil’s day. 

The flower shop is a lot of things, brick and white concrete and earth, but _boring_ is how he would choose to describe it. Not a lot of people buy flowers during regular days, and most of the time Wonpil just lounges behind the counter, occasionally spritzing and pruning, then taking a nap. _Boring_ , Wonpil thinks. 

Until you start visiting.

You come in everyday. He’s memorized your routine: in the morning, you’re first to walk in—he’s lucky enough if any customer comes after you—so much that the wind chime tinkling before 9 AM has become synonymous with your return. Coming in, you inhale all the scents of the shop—cherrywood and leaves—and walk to his counter with a renewed bounce in your step.

Wonpil thinks you’re pretty.

“Good morning,” he says brightly, when you come into his shop that morning. He doesn’t usually like acting cute on purpose but it just comes out when you’re there. He’s giddy when you visit, and grateful because you’re giving him business. “What can I get you today?”

Wonpil knows your order by heart, but he lets you say it anyway. He likes the sound of your voice. _Friendship flowers, please._ “Friendship flowers, please. I think I’ll get those pink ones.”

_Pink? That’s new._ He flashes you a smile, taking the pencil tucked from behind his ear, writing you a slip.

“What will you be giving me?” You peer over the counter to look at his handwriting. Then, Wonpil can only focus on your head, which he can see directly as you lean over, and he thinks even the back of your head is beautiful. “ _Ooh,_ freesias. I bet that’s pretty. Everything you do is pretty.”

Your compliment sends a zing up Wonpil’s feet. He disappears into the backroom for a bit, collecting your flowers. He considers adding another one, but stops when he remembers the flowers aren’t for you anyway.

When he returns, you’re still there, tapping your fingers on the counter. Wonpil’s noticed you like watching him work on the bouquet with his hands, so he spreads it out on the nearby table and beckons you to come closer. 

“Your friend must be very happy,” Wonpil hums. A strand of hair has fallen astray on his forehead and he’s pretty sure you’re staring at him. _Cute._

“She is,” you murmur. You’re fixated on his craft, folding and creasing, bunchin and tying. “You make such good art with your hands.”

Wonpil feels the blush rise in his cheeks. “Ah, I meant she must be very happy because you’re thoughtful—”

“Really, you deserve more traction.” He looks at you and you’re grinning, all crinkled eyes and teeth, and he thinks your eyes are especially pretty today. “My friends like your work. You’re amazing.”

_You’re amazing._

Even hours after you leave, Wonpil can still hear you talking fondly about him. He can practically hear the smile in your voice. _You’re amazing._ He shakes his head and buries it in his hands, aware of how giddy he’s feeling.

* * *

The next day, you walk in, same pep in your step, same cheer in your voice. Except—

“Do you have any flowers for... Someone you love?” You rub your arm shyly, and Wonpil feels like... Well. He doesn’t know what he feels like. It feels like jealousy, but the rational part of him condemns it, because while he truly does like you, it wouldn’t matter. You’re clearly not interested, anyway.

He settles for ‘dread’. “Roses?”

You smile. Wonpil has heard of the idiom of smiles lighting up rooms before, but he didn’t really think that sort of smile was real until he met you. “Roses it is, then.”

When Wonpil turns around he frowns _so hard_ it feels like his head is going to explode. Maybe he should have confessed his little crush earlier.

Reluctantly he gets the roses and wraps them—he doesn’t even put on a show for you to watch. When he’s done he thinks about how the flowers are pretty and so are you, and how you’re going to give the flowers to someone you like, and it isn’t him.

Nope, not jealous. Definitely not.

Wonpil puffs his cheeks out and exhales, walking back to the counter where you’re waiting. “Here you go,” he says curtly, mouth in a tight smile. He’s holding the bouquet with both hands like a schoolboy offering flowers. 

You look at him curiously, taking the flowers from Wonpil. “Are you... Are you okay?” An awkward laugh punctuates the end of your sentence. “You look angry.”

Immediately Wonpil glances at his reflection on the nearby mirror and realizes he looks like a fool: lips pressed together, brows scrunched, cheeks flushed scarlet. “Oh, sorry—!” He drops the expression. “Sorry, I think I just—”

You cut him off with a laugh. “What was that? That was cute.”

“Ah...” Wonpil laughs nervously, allows himself a smile. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “Thank you.”

You give a bright nod to him. He looks at you starting to leave and suddenly one thing is clear to him: he likes you, and he wishes he could give you all the flowers in the world.

“Wait,” Wonpil says, before you can leave. You’re paid and leaving, and he thinks if he doesn’t say it now, he’d never get the courage to say it. “Y/N, wait here, please.”

“Um— “ You freeze in your spot. “Um, okay...?”

He leaves you bewildered when he goes in the backroom. Hidden, Wonpil tries to even out his breathing. Then, systematically, like he’s done countless times before, he takes a couple of flowers, wrapping them together in a small, simple bouquet. It doesn’t look like much compared to your roses.

Still, these are the flowers that remind you of him. They’re direct and pretty. Just like you.

“Here.” Wonpil holds out your bouquet in the same manner again, and he doesn’t even meet your eyes. You look like a deer in headlights, but eventually you put down the roses— _Oh, thank God!—_ and take the flowers, brushing against his hand in the process.

“What’s this?”

“Peonies and baby’s breath,” he says, fidgeting with his hands. “They’re sweet and pretty, so they match you.”

Wonpil’s a bit pleased to see you flustered.

“Wah, Pil, they’re pretty...” You sniff the flowers. “I think I’ll just pay for this one.”

“What?” _Haha, what?_ “They’re for you.”

Silence. Wonpil rubs his hands together awkwardly.

You blink. “For me?”

“Yes,” he says, “take them; they’re free.”

“Aw, Pil, thank you but I couldn’t really—”

“Take them,” Wonpil blurts out, waving his hand dismissively. “I made them for you. Just... For you.”

“What—” Your eyes widen with realization and he winces, preparing himself for the rejection. Oh, well. At least you would be kind enough to turn him down nicely. “What is—Are these really for me?”

You sound so bewildered he can’t help but laugh. “Um, I like you,” he says quietly, but you catch the words anyway.

“ _You_ like me?”

His head whips up to look at you. Why did you look so surprised? Surely you’d caught on with his pining, he wasn’t exactly the most subtle person.

“Yes, and I think you like someone so I’m going to say my feelings now before they get deeper,” Wonpil says earnestly, glancing at the bouquet of roses on the counter.

You hang your head. “Wonpil...”

_Here it comes._

“I don’t really like flowers,” you mumble. Like some kind of cruel allegory, he actually feels himself wilt under your gaze. You didn’t like flowers? Why were you buying so much, then? Flowers were all he could offer, and you didn’t like them. “I don’t really like flowers, Pil, and—”

“Ah, okay. So I’ll just take those?”

“No!” Your voice surprises the both of you. “I don’t like flowers and... I only ever go in here to see you. That’s why I go here, to see you. Sorry if... That’s creepy. But I like seeing your smile and you’re cute and you make good bouquets so—”

What you’re saying slowly sinks in. _You like him, too._ Wonpil’s mouth quirks upward in a smile. “You’re cute.”

You’re gripping the bouquet too hard. “I think you’re cute, too.”

The two of you exchange shy glances at each other for a moment. Then, he asks, “So who are the flowers for?”

“My mom’s. It’s her birthday.”

“Ah.” Wonpil didn’t know it was possible but he smiles even bigger. He even giggles, and the sound rings through the shop. “I’ll take the roses back, then. Cotton would suit her better. Wait here, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

Before he leaves again for the backroom, your hands brush like they always do. But this time, you aren’t in a rush to draw away, and you flash him the smile that makes him feel all warm and funny inside.

_Okay, I’ll be here._

Definitely, your visits are the highlight of Wonpil’s day.

**Author's Note:**

> spare feedback crumbs i will love u 4ever


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